


Rain

by thetransgirlwhoneverwas



Series: Fictober 2019 [12]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-16 09:10:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21033824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetransgirlwhoneverwas/pseuds/thetransgirlwhoneverwas
Summary: The TARDIS waits in a perpetual rainstorm as her occupants ponder their histories with rain.





	Rain

Charley Pollard sat in the central room of the TARDIS and watched the rain through the transparent ceiling. The TARDIS was sat on a planet - the Doctor had told her the name, but she had forgotten it - while he fixed something to do with the translation circuits. They had been there for several hours and it had not stopped raining. Charley had tried to keep herself occupied: she had talked to the Doctor for as long as he could pay attention; she had tried reading a book; she had even entertained the notion of going outside and exploring for close to three seconds before reconsidering. Whatever she did brought her back to the window, and the view. Back to the rain.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen something like this,” came a voice from behind her. Charley didn’t look. She didn’t need to, she recognised the voice. C’rizz. He sat down near her, but not so close as to be uncomfortable. Charley liked to think they had become closer. They had been rather cold to each other at first - a behaviour neither of them had stopped regretting - but they were opening up now, after all the adventures they had been on.

“What are you looking at?” he asked after failing to receive a response to his previous observation.

“The rain,” Charley replied.

“Well, that much was obvious,” C’rizz shot back, and Charley smirked a little. It was appropriate that C’rizz was from a desert, she thought. His native environment was almost as dry as his wit. “What about the rain?”

Charley watched as the rain hit against the ceiling of the TARDIS, sliding down the curved sides. She wondered how this happened, given the exterior dimensions of the TARDIS. Maybe it was magnified and she was looking out of the light on top. Maybe it was the force field projected from the box. Or maybe it was an illusion and none of it was actually happening. In the end, she decided she didn’t care enough to question it.

“It rained a lot back home, too,” she finally gave an answer to the posed question.

“Ah,” C’rizz said, and though Charley still was not looking at him, she suspected he was nodding sagely. “Home.”

“I wonder if they miss me,” Charley mused, a wistful sigh emerging. “They think I’m dead, I know that much. But I wonder if they miss me, day to day, you know? If they read my favourite book and think of me. Or if they wish I was there to eat plum pudding with them. Is that selfish of me? That I want them to miss me?”

C’rizz moved slightly closer to her. “I don’t think it is.”

Charley tore her gaze away from the rain and towards C’rizz. His face was a light purple that almost seemed to glow in the dark, gothic ambience of the TARDIS.

“It didn’t rain much on Eutermes,” it was his turn to muse, turning his own eyes towards the still falling rain. “I was just another worker there. I don’t really think anyone will miss me. I don’t really miss them. But I sometimes wish I did. I at least hope they remember me. We’re not in that universe anymore, but I hope they remember me at home.”

He turned back to Charley, who had not stopped watching her own nostalgia almost reflected in his amber eyes.

“I don’t think it’s selfish to want to be important to someone,” he continued after a moment of quiet. “If you were a part of someone’s life, if you miss them, I think it’s only natural for you to want to have meant something to them. To be remembered by the people you remember.”

Charley took another sigh. “You can be infuriatingly wise, sometimes C’rizz.”

“What?” he asked. “What have I done this time?”

“What’s the point of asking rhetorical existential questions and ruminating on the answers if you just walk up and tell me them?” Charley teased him. They both laughed, then sighed.

“Thank you, C’rizz.”

“Anytime.”

Charley Pollard and C’rizz sat down together in the central room of the TARDIS and watched the rain through the transparent ceiling.


End file.
